


Storytelling

by MiniNephthys



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-04
Updated: 2011-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-23 10:12:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniNephthys/pseuds/MiniNephthys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feelings jams are always held on piles.  Everyone knows that.  But where did this tradition begin?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storytelling

Nepeta is the only troll capable of walking into Equius's hive unannounced and getting away with it. Equius turns to greet her, leaving his last robot unfinished for now. "What did you need?"

She flops on the floor in front of him. It's not as comfortable as her own hive, but having him there is better. "I need a pick-me-up."

"Hm. Do you require a feelings jam?" he asks.

Without hesitation, since she's already prepared for the question, she answers, "Nooo. All of my relationships are purrfectly fine, I'm just down fur no reason at all."

That's annoying. They have more than mastered the art of the feelings jam by now. "Then what do you propose we do?"

This she considers longer. Not too much longer, because she already knows what her moirail is willing to do and what cheers her up. "Equius, can you tell me a story?"

He straightens his back even more, looking as though he's been tasked with an incredibly important mission. To him, cheering Nepeta up probably is the most important mission of all. "That, I can do."

Equius knows this story best. Equius knows all of the stories, of the way every branch of the Alternian military was formed, of when the first blueblood picked up the first bow and used it to pierce the heart of the troll who had killed his matesprit before his eyes. Unlike roleplaying, which is a silly pastime because it comes down to trying to deny what exists in favor of make-believe, storytelling is a noble tradition that helps trolls understand where they came from and where they should remain.

This story is his favorite of all the ones he knows. He refuses to tell her why, but she thinks she can guess.

No one is clear on the beginning of the tale. Some say that the blueblood it revolves around had lost his lusus, matesprit, and kismesis all to some great natural disaster in one day, so that there was no one to take out his fearsome vengeance on. Others say that he had been rejected for the ninety-ninth quadrant proposal in a row. Still others mention him losing a battle against a powerful troll of slightly lesser blood than he and only being able to crawl away from the encounter. The only consistent part of the story is that it had been a no good, very bad day.

When it seemed that a rampage against anyone in his path was inevitable, and the weaker trolls around him had already fled - all of the trolls around him were weaker - his moirail stepped in as the only one who did not fear his wrath. Her description varies, but always the storytellers mention her green blood. She said to him,

"Come and leave what angers you, if it's done you so much harm. Come and talk to me."

And he quieted his rage for the moment and asked her,

"How can I leave what angers me if even the ground at my feet seems to mock me? Even you, my moirail, cannot help me escape the wrongs that have been done to me."

She thought, before telling him,

"We will build you a pile, and then not even the cruel ground of Alternia will be able to reach you. Then we will be safe and you can rest easy."

The first pile was made of sticks, stones, anything that they could find, but it reached higher than a hive. They climbed up to the very top, and he told her of everything that had troubled him. It calmed him to have her understand him so, and he thanked her for her wisdom.

Slowly, the other trolls returned to the area, to see that the blueblood was still on his pile discussing the state of things with his moirail. They realized that it had been the moirail's ingenious idea that had saved them from being hunted down and slaughtered just to blow off steam. From that day on, piles have been built and dedicated to the purrpose of feelings jams.

Nepeta laughs at that, propping herself up on one arm as she lays in Equius's hive. Storytime seems to be over. "Did you just say 'purrpose'?"

"...I said 'purpose'," Equius lies. "Anything else you heard was due to your own bias."

"All right, Equius." She knows what she heard. "I feel a lot better now; I liked how you did the diffurent voices. You'd be a great-"

"Do not suggest that I would sully the ancient art of storytelling with your fantasy play." Equius does his best to sniff derisively, but it comes out sounding more like he has a cold.

Another soft laugh. "Was it really a blueblood and a greenblood in the story?"

Equius pauses, before smiling ever so slightly. "No, that part I added in myself. However, I can't imagine any feelings jams more comforting than our own, even the legendary first feelings jam. It must have been that way, and the other storytellers simply didn't realize it."

She's heard this story more than once before. Those legendary trolls sound more like her and Equius every time.


End file.
